Bits of Songs and Whispers
by Notorious George Weasley
Summary: A collection of cute, sad, happy, and frustrating DemZex shorts. Cause we all believe in the power of 69. READ AND REVIEW! Rating subject to change depending on how naughty i get
1. No Way To Say

YAAAAAY! Demyx and Zexion! They are very much for each other (69 dudes!!!) READ AND REVIEW! More later, I promise! Had fun!

Chapter One: No Way to Say

"Stop it."

"Stop what?"

"Stop it."

Demyx stopped tapping the table. His fingers itched for his sitar and there was nothing to appease them in the nearly empty break room. Only himself, the report he was working on, and VI were present. Had it been anyone else, the Musical Nocturne would have been fine, but it was Zexion. Silver satin hair, crystal-eyed, fair-skinned, elegant, silent, sexy Zexion, whose praises begged to be sung. Alas, everyone knew Zexion hated music. Impaired and flustered, Demyx remained rereading the same line of his report.

"…So how old are you?" He didn't look up when he asked, he knew Zexion would be shooting him one despicable look or another, enraged that IX would dare address a superior so impertinently or that IX was daring to strike up a conversation. To his surprise, Zexion's tone was bored, even calm, unstrained and free of loathing.

"Twenty."

"Really? That's kind of young. I'm twenty four."

"I don't care," Zexion muttered, flipping a page of his book. Truly, he didn't care about IX's age, but he was surprised to be talked to. No one ever talked to him, only Vexen and Lexaeus, and Xemnas, who gave orders. Nobodies above him avoided the lowest member of the Superior Six, and the Nobodies below him paid just enough respect to not venture anything beyond a salutation. And then there was IX. Xemnas had complained many times, that he was the one who just didn't get it. Souls without hearts really meant souls without hearts. Maybe musicians were exempt from feeling the absence, but Zexion would never be able to quench his curiosity, it seemed, since the small talk was over and IX certainly wouldn't –

"Do you have a favorite drink or something?"

A blitz question – completely random and surprising Zexion enough to look at the inferior member of the Organization. Not that he could see him very well; his silver bangs were relentlessly covering his right eye.

Jokingly hopeful, Demyx smiled back, dying to create some kind of connection.

"…Liquors."

"That stuff can be gross. Rum is better."

"You're the one Luxord chares it with."

"Yeah! Me, Axel, and Marluxia. Though Marluxia doesn't really like rum, and Larxene never joins in."

"She wouldn't."

"Well, yea. But Larxene is just there because Marluxia is and Marluxia shows up because he's madly gay for Luxord cause of their thing."

"Good for them. Maybe someone should stick something up Superior's ass to remove the tree in there."

Demyx smirked, though Zexion's tone had grown mildly flat. "Saix would jump at that chance."

A silver eye rolled. "No, there's a difference between lapdogs and man slaves. Superior screws him senseless on a daily basis in his office, where Saix receives _his_ favorite drink."

"EW!" Perfectly scaled laugh erupted from Demyx's throat. It was gross but true, which made it funny. Strange, coming from Zexion, but no one ever talked to Zexion to find out if he was funny or not. Smiling, Demyx turned his report face-down on the table, promising his Superior the uncompromised attention he demanded. Subject didn't matter anymore, he just wanted to hear that beautiful voice flow from the gently pouting lips.

"Favorite fruit?"

"…kiwis."


	2. Two Feet

YAY! Next chapter! You all ready? I said ARE YOU READY?! Okay then! READ AND REVIEW!

Chapter Two: Two Feet

Most of the Organization was gathered in the commons, enjoying their small vacation for that night. Demyx sat in hidden agony, joking with Axel and Roxas and hurling insults at Vexen. He was at ease with everything in the world, except the thing that was farthest from him – Zexion, who sat in a large armchair nearby with a monstrous black book. How a person sitting two feet away in a large black armchair could be so far away baffled Demyx. But that was Zexion: silent, enigmatic, hypocritical. Inches between but miles apart, and he had made that transparently clear.

Demyx sat back from the conversation and let his eyes slide over the silver bangs and icy eye. It was clear that Zexion would shut him down every time, that he would walk away from conversations, that he would ignore advances when he used to enjoy them. It was crystal, but Demyx chose to disregard things that were clear, because they were often wrong.

Easily, he could remember when VI has been his crush, his small distraction, his "I could tap that" joke. But it had turned greater, tiny trickles turning to a downpour. Zexion was Demyx's reluctant muse, a shadow of a greater passion, in denial and out of reach. That small body made Demyx boil. He wanted that skin against his, that hair on his pillow, those eyes staring up at him, those lips against his ear, and that velvety tone ringing in his head. All he wanted was Zexion – even just his knee brushing awkwardly against his own.

But Demyx sat on the couch and Zexion sat in his chair. Miles and inches apart. Love against apathy, Music falling on deaf ears.

For a split second, Zexion's silver eye strayed away from the book, and was caught in Demyx's cerulean. The two paused, breathing ceased. For that fracture of a second, they touched, no matter how much Zexion fought. Even though the silver eye flew immediately away, a small pink budded over his pale cheeks. Demyx was conquered again, and he smiled, knowing that a few notes of his profession had gotten through. After all, what was love without a chase? Miles and inches – it all depended on the map.


	3. Sound of Silence

Chapter 3: Sound of Silence

Silence – the absence of sound: that was what surrounded Zexion. A mist of vacuum around the Cloaked Schemer, deadening his footsteps, hushing his breath, hallowing his words, everything was swallowed in the dark cloud of silence, never to be heard from again. If silence really was golden, Zexion was a 14-carat beast.

Sound – the absence of silence: it swam around Demyx like drugged butterflies. His movements sang, his body crooned, and his eyes struck harp strings, Melodious nothings whispered where he walked, spreading out about him like a globe.

They couldn't have been more different. At first, they were apathetic… Well, in reality, Demyx was scared of Zexion and that cold death that destroyed what the Nocturne held as life-force. But his fear turned to curiosity, which turned to admiration, which turned to liquid quivering diamond moths in his veins and stomach when the superior walked by. Tiny interactions fueled it, but then Zexion turned violently calm and mute, sending Demyx to flare with rhythms and scales. The war had brought them to that night – Zexion was storming back to his room after several rude comments from Axel and Xigbar, and Demyx seized his arm, spinning him around. After so many days of chasing, he wasn't going to let go and give up anymore, so when Zexion struggled to get free, Demyx gripped him tighter and plastered the smaller member to the wall.

"Let me GO!"

"Zexion-"

"Unhand me, IX!"

"My name is Demyx! Demyx! I am not a number, I'm more than that! Now listen to me!"

Stunned to silence, Zexion glared expectantly at Demyx, his unfeeling silver eye piercing Demyx's blue. Words disappeared from Demyx's tongue as he scrambled to recall all those pretty words he had practiced, those notes he had caged for this moment. All vanished. But there was no turning back, and if saying something was out of the question, and singing something was less than possible, he had no other choice. Just as Zexion opened his mouth to let out another flash of outrage, Demyx seized his lips in a water-tight kiss. The pale lips paused, shyly swept away by the warm hum pressed to them, then surrendered as a wet snake penetrated and turned Zexion's mouth to liquid. His walls crumbled as he closed his eyes, swooning with weightlessness in his stomach, and he moved his tongue back against Demyx's.

Suddenly, Demyx pulled back from the magnetic lips and flushing cheeks, staring into Zexion's eyes as he swept the bangs out of the marble face. "…This… is all I have to offer… do you want me?" Blinking slowly, honesty playing in his face, Zexion saw the pain in Demyx's eyes for the first time, the uncertainty on the soft brow, the hope in the smooth cheeks, and the determination in the strong lips. He bit back the word Demyx waited for, because he could pretend that he didn't care, that the kiss had meant nothing, that IX was in denial, that his chest didn't hurt… but he didn't. He wouldn't. So he pushed himself up onto his tiptoes into another melting kiss. Passion rocked Demyx's lips back against Zexion's, easing his superior behind a white column and out of sight from anyone who might pass by. Another wet caress of his tongue sent shivers down Zexion's spine, and he found himself gripping Demyx's shoulders to keep from falling. Joined in rubbing tongues, the two were quickly melding in strange, hot confusion. Sound was in silence, silence in sound.

Demyx held the slender hips, nuzzling into the delicate features he had admired for so long, slipping music into the tiny sighs Zexion let out as a prelude to a great symphony composed of groans and gasps and aches that Demyx had every intention of writing. Never had he wanted anything this much. A small nip on his lip le Demyx over the line from infatuation to burning desire. Slowly they drew back their tongues, letting their lips dazedly slide over one another before ending the kiss. Sharing spit and a blush, Demyx's smile illuminated and Zexion struggled for an expression to cover his glorious dizziness.

"Y…yes…"

His stubborn pride was suspended and drowning in Demyx, who beamed with his acceptance.

"Let me play you something I wrote."


End file.
